


Betrayal

by MemoryCrow



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anger, Break Up, Changelings, Dark, Gen, Hurt, Magic, New Beginning, Sorrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8762542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemoryCrow/pseuds/MemoryCrow
Summary: A different version of OUAT's season 6 episode, The Changelings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note, especially for Rumbellers: This is basically my temper tantrum on Rumpel's behalf after the above episode, and - as such - it's fairly anti-Belle. It's specific to the show, and even to this one-shot. The Belle I love tends to live much more in fan fiction and imagination than she does in the show where she was born. Plus... there's my ill-advised sympathy for the devil syndrome to deal with. 
> 
> And in the OUAT world, could someone please take away Belle's 'Her Handsome Hero' book? I think it's a Stepford Wife manual in disguise.

It sank in, became meaningful. The Blue Bloody Faerie disappeared into a distant nothing, his son in tow.

" _What_?" Rumpelstiltskin breathed.

He could not believe it.

He stood with his back to the others in the room, trying very hard to master his emotions. He hated them. He resented them, one and all. Even Belle.

_How_? How could she have done this? He couldn't even look at her. Coming into the room, he'd felt her weariness as a new mother... and he'd felt her sorrow, an alarm that had had driven him to the window. She'd parted with her child.

He'd also felt judgment. And... triumph.

Whispering, near tears, he said, "You _bitch_. You miserable, wretched _bitch_." He'd never, ever spoken such words to her.

"Hey, now...." Emma said. He flashed her a look. The idiot pirate knew enough to stay still and silent.

Hardly able to make himself do it, he turned to Belle. If his words hurt her, it didn't show. She stared at him steadily. Her eyes seared... she looked a bloody saint, tested by a demon. She would burn before she would give.

No one seemed to know how much he held back. The darkness he reigned in, the _effort_ of it... it was _all the time_. He'd thought Belle knew, and understood that it was for her.

Perhaps he'd misjudged her. Love made him stupid, a fool, and yet she seemed to believe he could not love.

He was _done_. Though the heroes of the day gathered around her, borrowing magic from faeries and adopting muscular stances, the truth was that Belle was safe, regardless. He would never harm her. But he was done with her. His heart closed. She could seek neither protection nor friendship from him, again.

As her righteous eyes bore into him, he found he still could not raise his voice. It was barely more than a whisper, and thick with grief. The reality of what had happened left him feeling hollowed. Empty.

He said, "You stand ever in judgment of me. I judge _you_. You won't forgive me. I _can't_ forgive you. I'll no more hear from your lips what a _hero_ does or does not do. I don't _care_ , Belle. In yourself and others of this town, the blindness and hypocrisy is astounding. Breathtaking. I thought you were different. You think I'm evil? What was done here, today, was _evil_. I'm sick with it. When I find my son, I won't return him to you."

Belle's lips parted, the barest flicker of doubt in her eyes to feel herself judged; to be called evil. Emma and her lap-dog approached; they circled the wagons. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered, anymore, except for the life of the child. Stolen from him... by Belle.

He magiced himself away, and when he was in the shadows of his shop, he retched horribly, then wept.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What stupidity it was, the separating of the Evil Queen from Regina. The Jekyll-Hyde formula notwithstanding, it was ludicrous. A mere device to free Regina from responsibility for her darker self, and - left on its own - the darker self was a walking cartoon. Overly confident and filled to overflowing with blind spots.

Had she a moustache, she would have twirled it. He had no doubt as to who poisoned Belle, bringing about the child's completion and early arrival. Even so, Her Majesty couldn't resist a show of triumph and a confession... if she couldn't bask in and enjoy the moment, it would be as if it hadn't happened at all. Were she more familiar with this world, she would post all of her dealings on Facebook or Twitter, highly aware of statistics. There would be many, many selfies.

With a false pout, a little girl who played dress-up and wished, so very much, to be punished, she said, "Will you try and kill me now, Rumpel? Should I run and hide from the Big... Bad... Dark One?"

Probably. But, no. He was as done with this hot mess of a queen as he was with Belle. With a snap of his fingers, they were joined by Regina. Next to her darker self, she appeared to be competent and reasonable. Why could Belle not see the truth of it... the truth of all people, if in varying degrees? All were comprised of both good and bad, and the grey areas were vast. The good and the bad mixed and mingled, and there was always more than one side to any issue. Those who tried to separate a part from the whole... well. They became as schizophrenic and dangerous as the pair before him.

"What the hell?" Regina asked, orienting herself to her new surroundings. "One day you'll do that when I'm in the shower."

Her darker self simpered over the notion, but Rumpelstiltskin couldn't even smirk. His gorge rose again.

He said, "Your somewhat more amoral half brought my wife to an early delivery. Belle, of course, thinks I did it."

Regina looked at her grandiose reflection in horror, and the Queen smiled with wine colored lips.

"This bipolar state won't do." he continued. "I'm reintegrating you."

Both women looked shocked. There was an openness... maybe relief in Regina. She'd well learned that - once truly loosed - she couldn't control herself. It was a truth Rumpelstiltskin felt rather itchy to share with the town about himself. The Queen appeared to be struck with mortification. She was a teenager being hauled off to some form of freedom squelching detention. She worked up a blazing head of magic, but he neutralized it with a thought. No one... no one knew all that he'd repressed. Held back.

For Belle.

He knew of no one more strong than himself; more powerful.

"You can do that?: Regina breathed.

"Indeed. Out of respect for you, Regina, I wanted to ask first. Will you accept yourself?"

Her dark eyes flashed, and the Queen's flashed as well. "No, Rumpel." the Queen said. "Don't do it. Forget Belle... I could make your life _so_ good... I could keep your bed so warm."

Both he and Regina looked ill, and Regina said, "Do it."

His power was such that it was done as her words still hung in the air. The Queen could not so much as whimper in protest. Regina stood before him, flushed, her hand at her chest. Her breath came hard.

"Alright, dearie?"

"I... I think so."

"Can you feel her?"

"Yes." she smiled. "I feel like me, again. I think she's much more safe, here with me. As one person."

"Indeed."

"What will you do, Rumpel?" Serious, cautious, she asked, "Will you exact revenge?"

The magic that made Regina whole pleased him, but he was still emptied. The raw, hollow parts of himself couldn't truly look forward to anything. It was difficult to plan, to see a future. If not for the uncertainty of knowing his child was out there, he might be content to die.

His disappointment was profound.

Regina saw it, and her face softened. She held his hand. Staring at her hand... finally, it was offered in an uncomplicated gesture of friendship... he said, "I don't know, dearie. Maybe, though I've lost any taste for it at the moment. What I must do is find my son."

"Rumpel, I'm so sorry for what she... for what I did."

"I know you are, dearie."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The magic of the faeries of the Enchanted Forest was strong. Even somewhat watered down in Storybrooke, it was still strong enough to pose a challenge. Perhaps an unexpected bonus of all he'd held back, kept in check for Belle's sake was that _everyone_ underestimated him.

Reul Ghorm's magic was powerful; his magic was _more_ powerful. Rumpelstiltskin wasted no time. He told the magic, _show me where it hurts_. At this point, there were so many hurts... so many wounds that he could cozy up to and take a closer look. But he and his magic were one; it knew at once that the hurt was the feeling of his own flesh and blood, taken from him. It seemed almost as rough as a baby taken from its mother's belly, as Belle could no doubt attest. His hurt was the shell that was left.

_Hold me up to your ear_ , he thought to Belle. his belly clenched tight with her betrayal; she wouldn't even tell him his son's name. _Hold me to your ear, and hear the ocean._

With the sharp, uncompromising precision of his pain, magic led him along a direct, dagger's path to his old home. The Enchanted Bloody Forest, where Reul Ghorm saw fit to give Baelfire a magic bean.

Done with Belle, done with the Evil Queen; so very done with Reul Ghorm. He found her in her secreted grotto, full of vines and mosses and crumbling, age-streaked statues of old gods. She held the child and looked satisfyingly shocked to see him... still dark-suited and redolent with the scent of Storybrooke; rain and falling leaves and acres of fir trees.

"How did you find me?" she asked.

"I followed the path of my pain. You meddling, manipulative, calculating bitch. Give me my son."

"I'm following his mother's wishes."

"She gave him up. She's given up her wishes. She never consulted the father as to _his_ wishes."

"Rumpelstiltskin..."

"I'm angry, and I've long hated you." He let loose a wave of magic that allowed her to feel his black hatred, and his years of sorrow over Baelfire. She rocked with it, her eyes showing only whites for a moment. Her eyelashes fluttered as she regained herself.

"Even so, it seems I've lost my taste for blood, dearie. For the time being. Give me my son... I'm sending you back to the other world and I'm severing all ties between our worlds. I want no dealings with any of you. Ever again."

"What will you do with him?"

Rumpelstiltskin looked at the Blue Faerie as if she'd gone simple. "Raise him."

"To be a devil, like you?"

"To be whoever he is, which is none of your concern. Tell me his name."

"Belle - "

Showing teeth, Rumpelstiltskin growled, "I do not honor any wish of Belle's or any promise made to her. Her mind was _poisoned_ with heroism, _twisted_ with it. She acted without honor, and anything you do on her behalf, I despise. I've no taste for blood, you glitter-bitch, but I'll spill it if you so desire. You know I have you... If you like, we'll sanctify this faerie chapel with the blood of the head bitch. Your old gods are long neglected and hungry for it. Can you feel them?"

He gave her a moment to feel. The old gods were as single-minded as Belle. Their drive, the blind need was shocking.

Pale and trembling, Reul Ghorm stood and handed Rumpelstiltskin his son. He stared at the baby... his feathery eyelashes were soft on his flushed cheeks; his brow worried and lavender shadows played about his closed eyes. Rumpelstiltskin's nostrils flared, and he brought the child closer to his face. The baby smelled of... magic. The scent of an oncoming storm... of honey and of rain falling to the earth. _His_ child.

"His name is Gideon." Reul Ghorm said.

A slow smile spread over Rumpelstiltskin's face, and he found a glimmer... a little spark within. He held his son, and perhaps there was life yet to look forward to, even in the awful knowledge of Belle's betrayal.

The name meant 'Great Destroyer'. 'Destroying One'. Had Belle _known_ that when she named the boy? She of an endless sea of books... could she have _not_ known?

Looking up, he said, "Tell her she'll never know him. Tell her it's the path she chose."

"I..." Reul Ghorm began, but then she was gone. With a thought, the strength of magical intention that was growing stronger every moment he was in his homeland, Rumpelstiltskin sent her back to Storybrooke. He closed the door behind her, and as he walked the long familiar, forested land, holding his baby, he systematically closed all doors; locked all locks. Portals winked out of existence, beans shriveled or rotted on the vine, hats became only hats, mirrors were only mirrors, wells pulled water from the earth. The stories and peoples of other lands became the province of books and imagination, where they could forever play out their dramas and intrigues, their vengeance and passions, their happy endings.

"Gideon." he said, aloud.

The baby opened his eyes. They were dark, like his. He held his finger to his son's wee hand, and was gripped by long, infant fingers.

"In only moments," he said, "this land will change me. I'll be frightful to look upon, but you need never fear me. I'll protect you forever, wee man."

The baby gave a silly, open mouthed smile. Rumpelstiltskin smiled back. He could already feel change working over him... the _corruption_ , all said, of the Dark One. He welcomed it. From now on, everything would be out in the open. He would not alter himself for one such as Belle again.

_Gideon_. Great Destroyer. An imp-giggle arose... What was she _thinking_?

He walked them in the direction of the Dark Castle. The future lay wide open.

　

THE END

 


End file.
